


FRET

by velarisofstarlight



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velarisofstarlight/pseuds/velarisofstarlight
Summary: Most of the time, we just keep running through things to see how much we would bleed.Filed under: Random Doodles





	FRET

Around here, one rarely fret when one’s name was Choi Seungcheol.

Choi, the family name, was common among the South Korean population the way Park and Jung were; but right at the apex stood one family backed by powerful wealth, a business empire led by Choi Seungcheol’s grandfather. The empire had went on to become one of the dozen corporations that monopolized Asia’s economy. There, after one controlling father and two missing older brothers, was Choi Seungcheol.

When his youngest grandson was born, Mr Choi Senior was the first person to hold and meet the child; his own son was held up at some meeting, too busy to welcome another competitor to the family fortune. And so when the time came for the child to be named, his daughter-in-law, weak but angry, deleted her husband’s message that contained their son’s should-be name. Instead, she asked him to name her child.

“Seungcheol,” the elder said after studying the baby’s face for a while. “His name will be Seungcheol, and he will win fair and square.”

Choi Seungcheol went home the next day and his presence was an immediate slap across the face for Mr Choi Junior. As the child grew, so did his father’s resentment towards his grandfather. The former would find fault in everything he did and punish him for it, the latter would spend hours in a house he was not welcomed to teaching his grandson the lessons of life. Choi Seungcheol was a child whose thoughts were straightforward and honest, he did not know about power nor about the veiled fights at dinner tables; he only knew who was kind to him and who was not. When the day came that his mother disappeared from his life, he took one look at his father who was roaring with anger and indignation, and took his grandfather’s outstretched hand.

Choi Seungcheol would see his father a handful of times a year, all of which were “for the benefit of the company”, as his grandfather trained him vigorously to create the perfect successor. Upon graduating high school, his grandfather appointed him as his official successor and that same year, before he could celebrate his coming-of-age; Choi Seungcheol would lay the only family figure in his life to rest.

So yes, Choi Seungcheol would not need to fret about his future, it was all planned and secured. But what about now, one would ask, what would his life become after his grandfather’s death?

It would be a game, a constant cycle of situations and who-got-the-upper-hand until Choi Seungcheol would become a choice to the council, an eligible person and not just a name on fancy paper, to be put on the throne.

Choi Seungcheol became very good at playing and he had an arsenal of weapons at his disposal; namely his face and his hobby. Though the latter started out as extra-curricular activity, doing Taekwondo quickly escalated to become channel to let go of his frustration and a last line of defence for his father’s possible abuse, should Choi Seungcheol ever stayed around him long enough to find out like his mother. The former, he had a love-hate relationship with. His father, true to his nature, had wanted the very best for himself and that included Choi Seungcheol’s mother. She was beautiful in every way and Choi Seungcheol hated how the mirrors reminded him of her abandonment. He took after her eyes, the long sooty lashes, the full lips and how when he smiled, he would have a dimple on his right cheek. In the lookist society of South Korea, Choi Seungcheol could sometimes get out trouble without speaking.

If the pretty, wholesome boy look had failed, he would have his father’s gift; hatred. That particular emotion had gotten Choi Seungcheol a lot of things, street credentials being one of them. One night, a scuffle went really wrong that ended with Choi Seungcheol smiling serenely as his head gushed blood while the other guy was barely breathing. Authorities bent in his favor when his name came up, of course, but people swore up and down that Choi Seungcheol was completely in the right; no one had deliberately tried to cross him since then. To this day, Choi Seungcheol did not know what the audience of that fight saw in him that had them reacting that way, but he wished he would never find out.

And so, we were back to square one: Choi Seungcheol would never need to fret about his daily life when his face, his name and his anger had built such a perfect armor for him. But even so, he sometimes fret. The quick tapping of his right foot, the fiddling of his fingers, the biting of his lips, the swift glances, the nauseating drop of his stomach and the skip in his heartbeat; he had those moments.

Around here, one rarely fret when one’s name was Choi Seungcheol, these rare occasions only happen in the presence of one Yoon Jeonghan.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my many word vomits, most of which are written in one sitting and with no plot in mind whatsoever. Sorry for the cliff and thank you for the read.


End file.
